Autumn Leaves
by chinocoop81
Summary: Stelena. Post 4x02, right after the memorial scene. "She had broken him with her lies, and he had broken her with his truths, and together they were just a pair of vampires wishing they could just go back." One shot.


**A/N My poor Stefan. I just had to write them a happy-ish ending. I need them to be happy, and I hope you feel the same way. R/R please.**

**Song:** Autumn Leaves by Nat King Cole. _Listen to it. It'll set the mood._

**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the Vampire Diaries. If I did, I don't think I'd be writing about it._

* * *

Stefan Salvatore felt _heartbroken _and _tired_. He couldn't escape this nightmare, couldn't _fix _things, not this time. There was no self-sacrifice, no ultimate bad guy to fend off. Saving Elena wouldn't be this easy now because _she _was the problem. Because she was like him now, and he couldn't _change _anything.

If anything, he just seemed to be making things worse. Elena had gone to _Damon _with the truth before him, had _lied _to Stefan instead of being honest. The thought that she couldn't turn to him anymore cast a huge hole in his already dead heart, and nothing he thought could refill the empty crater that hope had once filled.

"I should get you home," he murmured quietly to Elena as they both climbed into the car. He didn't turn to look at her, just stared straight ahead as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

She sighed softly and leaned against the door. "Could I just stay with you tonight?" She rubbed her eyes tiredly. " With everything, I'm afraid of staying alone with Jeremy."

He nodded and breathed out slowly, rubbing his own eyes tiredly. "Yeah, sure, of course," he said quietly, starting the car and smoothly pulling out.

They remained silent on the ride home, both lost in their own thoughts. Stefan couldn't stop thinking that if he had just _left _two years ago, if he hadn't felt the need to _know _her she wouldn't be going through all of this right now. She would be human. She would be a cheerleader, probably dating Matt, worrying about the next Miss Mystic Falls Pageant and getting into college. God, she would just be a _teenager_.

The guilt felt stifling. Klaus never would have known there was another doppelganger. Damon never would have killed Zach. Tanner would have still been teaching like the absolute dick he was, and Alaric never would have set foot in this town, much less _died _in it.

When they reached the boarding house, he turned off the car and they just sat there for a few minutes. Elena turned to him and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He knew he should comfort her, should tell her it was okay, but it _wasn't_ because _she _had _lied _and _he _had caused _everything_.

Elena finally reached over and rested her hand on his bicep, but he didn't turn to her. "Hey," she murmured. "Stefan?"

He threw a sad smile in her direction. "We should get you to bed. You've had a hard day."

Before she could argue, he was outside opening her door for her and waiting patiently for her to climb out. He avoided her worried gaze as he shut the door behind her and began walking to the front door. Assuming she was following, he tiredly walked to his room, his feet dragging on the floor in mere exhaustion. And if she chose not to follow him, chose to go to _Damon_, well – there wasn't anything more he could do.

She walked into his room behind him, shutting the door softly behind her. He could feel her gaze on his back, but he was too tired to even pretend things were okay anymore. She had broken him with her lies, and he had broken her with his truths, and together they were just a pair of _vampires _wishing they could just go _back_.

He started undressing, pulling his shirt off and throwing it carelessly on the floor. He was about to reach for his shoes when he heard the static of the beginning of the record. He turned to see Elena turning to him after putting on his Nat King Cole record. "What are you doing?" he asked softly as "Autumn Leaves" started to play.

She walked toward him looking every bit as beautiful as the day he first met her, and he found it amazing that she could still take his breath away. "When I was a kid my parents had this old record machine that played vinyl records." She smiled softly, and it looked so beautiful on her absolutely breathtaking face. He couldn't help the surge of love that rose to the surface every time he looked at her, even if she had hurt him. Even if she hadn't _trusted _him. "My dad would put on this song and dance with my mom around the kitchen. Said there was something about the oldies that just spelled romance." She sighed dreamily. "I always knew that I wanted to dance to this song with the guy I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I _knew _that whoever held me as the song played was _the one_."

She lifted her eyes to his, and he felt his heart flutter at her adoring gaze. He didn't _deserve _her, not in the slightest, but he _couldn't _make himself just leave. She had him in her grasp, wrapped around her finger, and whether she decided to keep him or not was up to her. His life was in her hands whether she realized it or not. Before he could think better of it, he had her in his arms, was dancing slowly with her, holding her close. "And now?" he murmured into her ear, inhaling her intoxicating scent of vanilla and honey.

"Now I want _you_ to hold me," she whispered, so softly that a human wouldn't be able to hear. So, he did. He held her seemingly fragile body against his as they softly swayed to the song. And when it ended, they played it again and again, losing track of the number of times. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but their bodies pressed together, their synchronized breathing, the warmth shared between them as they just danced.

It could have been half an hour later, or maybe more, before she spoke again. "I'm so sorry for not telling you the truth, Stefan." But he didn't want to hear this, didn't want to come back to reality where she was like him and Damon had been the one she turned to when in trouble. He just wanted to hold her and let that be enough.

But with them, when was that ever enough?

"Shh," he murmured, rubbing circles on her back with his thumb. "We don't have to talk about it."

She pulled back enough to stare into his dazzling, heartbreaking green eyes. "Yes, we do," she said firmly, searching his eyes to see what he was thinking. Like always, he had everything out in the open. She could read him like a book because he loved her, loved her so much, and wanted her to know _everything_. "Stefan, I went to Damon because I didn't want to worry you. You seemed so happy, so _hopeful_…"

"That's the problem, isn't it?" he said softly, sadly, ripping his eyes from hers to look down at the curve where her shoulder met her neck. "I shouldn't have let my hopes get in the way. I should have known that it wouldn't be that easy for us. It never is."

"Hey, look at me." At his reluctance, she moved her hands from his neck to his cheeks, _making _him stare into her deep brown eyes. "Stefan, I love you. It's good that you had hope. It's good that _we _had hope. We _have _to, or what else is there?" She shook her head incredulously, tears pricking the back of her eyes. "It's the _only _thing keeping us from going absolutely insane."

He nodded, reaching up to wipe away the lone tear that escaped. "So what now?" he murmured, searching her eyes, her soul. "Where do we go from here?"

She let the silence settle between them long enough that he started losing hope again, but then she smiled sadly and his entire world brightened. Her smile was that powerful to him, even in sadness, even in grief. "We _live_, Stefan. Whatever that means now." She rubbed his cheeks, caressing his smooth skin, staring at him as if amazed. "We love and we live and we try to make that enough. We _hope_ for the day it gets better, and on the bad days we hold each other and sway to the music and try to make it better."

His own eyes watered as he stared at her because he _loved _her _that much_. He loved her so much that he couldn't fathom a life without her, couldn't fathom never meeting her, couldn't remember what misery had existed without her. In death, she was the _only _thing that kept him _alive_. "I love you so much," he murmured, shaking his head to clear the tears. "So much, Elena."

He leaned his forehead against hers, feeling her breath against his cheek. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and he tightened his own grip around her waist, pulling her flush against him as they continued to sway to the music. He felt her tears on his cheek and his heart broke because he loved her so much and he wanted to ease every single ounce of pain. He wanted to make it _right_. "I know, Stefan," she whispered against his lips. "I love you so much, too."

When their lips met, it was explosive and passionate with a twist of absolute adoration. He could feel her everywhere, in every nerve fiber and cell of his being, felt her beating with his heart. He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't _taste _enough of her. He wanted them to be one, wanted to _melt_ into her so there was no separation. She was _his_, and he was so absolutely _hers_, and _together_ they were _unstoppable_. He just knew it.

When they finally collapsed after hours of passion and just _love_, he held her against him as she slipped into a deep sleep. He listened to her heart beat, so different now that she was no longer human, and listened to the still playing vinyl. He listened to the night, and her gentle breaths, and held her against him until he just _knew _things would be okay. That _they _would be okay, _she _would be okay. He stayed awake until he felt convinced everything was okay, that he had _fixed _them _for now_, and when he just _knew,_ he finally allowed himself to nuzzle against her and join her in a dreamless, deep sleep.


End file.
